


Drunkard, Having Fun?

by bwah_minion_ra7



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Brat Kink, Edging, M/M, No Spoilers, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, trashy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 02:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18202457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwah_minion_ra7/pseuds/bwah_minion_ra7
Summary: A terrible smut fic I wrote in the early hours of morning.





	Drunkard, Having Fun?

“That's a bloody shame,” Sean giggles drunkenly, barely managing to step over the full bottle of whiskey he dropped and smashed against the ground. Bouts of drinking, clumsiness and overall stupidity aren’t uncommon within the Irishman; rather the opposite, in fact. Arthur doesn’t think he's ever gone a day without holding a bottle in his hands.

“Yer gonna break something important, if you keep that up,” the older outlaw chided. It was dark and he was, evidently, tired. Dark bags hang underneath his eyes like a dead body under the gallows' trapdoor, neck hugged by rope. His usually intimidating posture has faltered slightly, showing slumped shoulders and the faint outline of a protruding stomach housing tonight's stew. Mr Morgan didn’t need nor want any imbecilic behaviour this night, let alone anything besides his tent, where he soon hoped to rest his head and get some well-earned shuteye.

"Shush, yousss... Bastard."

"Go to bed." Everyone was retiring to their designated sleeping spots, save but a few lone wolves— namely Dutch, Javier, Uncle, himself and the blundering moron in front of him. With any luck he'd resolve this issue without waking the camp up.

“Oh, come on, King Arthur~” the redhead purred and glanced the other up and down, attitide changed in an instant. What Sean lacked in subtlety he made up for in persuasion. He could ask a stranger to fuck him outright, and there’s still a high chance that they'll end up getting a room. It must be something about liking both women and men, Arthur had thought on many occasions. Or maybe the poor feller just can’t stop being the overly immature, sex-desiring teenager he was before joining the Van Der Linde gang. “You know you loooove me!”

“I shoulda left you to rot...”

“Ooh, come on big guy. Please? I'm too drunk to do anythin' else! Can't sleep like this!" He was all but clinging onto the man's jacket. Be it because of drunkenness or desperation, Arthur does not know.

“Why don’t you go ask Karen for yer quick fix, huh? Save me the trouble of punching your lights out in rejection.”

“’Cause she don't got a prick, of course!” He was being far too loud in the otherwise silent camp. Arthur clamped his hand around the younger's mouth and cursed under his breath, ignoring the way Sean shuddered at the touch like he'd just been thrown into icy water. “Mmm!” Protesting weakly, it—Sean—was almost laughable.

"Sigh. D'you promise to leave me alone after?" The nod was so quick— so eager and done without thought that he seriously doubted the answer. So, Arthur asks again, drawing out each word slowly to push it through the Irish skull belonging to his drunken partner in crime.

Another nod.

Well, there wasn't really any other option he could see. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching their encounter from afar, he made sure there wouldn't be any suspicious glances come morning. Dutch, forever plagued with insomnia and a craving for cigars, smokes just outside his tent, facing the opposite direction to the two men. Everyone else is too drowsy to even bother paying attention to. The coast was clear.

"C'mon, pretty boy."

* * *

The redhead is dragged to a secluded spot outside of camp, just far away enough that, should anyone happen to be conscious enough, no one will be able to hear them. Sean's already fabricated a tent in his pants, unsurprisingly.

"Uffd!" He's pushed against a tree, small twigs digging into his spine and pale flesh. Despite the rough texture behind him, he's only turned on more by the face glaring down at him: Arthur, big mean and scary... And very hot. Then, before any snarky comment could be made, Sean's lips get taken in a swift movement. Both men's eyes close simultaneously, muting one sense in favour of heightening the others.

"Whatchu want?" Arthur's voice is low, gravely and deep as ever when he pulls away.

"You."

"Very funny. What. You. Want?"

The Irishman thinks for a moment, staring at the reflective shine on the other male's lips— likely a product of their combined saliva.

"I want you in me mouth."

"A chance to shut you up? Gladly, Pretty Boy." And quicker than a bullet, Sean is being forced to the ground by his shoulder-length hair. He yelps in surprise and winces when his knees collide with a few small stones on the ground. Shit, he never failed to forget how rough things could be when he wasn't in control.

It felt good.

Arthur fiddles with his belt buckle, removing his gunless holster and throwing it to the forest floor with a sound that is, aside from their own baited breaths, the loudest thing around them. He pulls his suspenders from his shoulders, shimmies the fabric of his pants down until his prick meets the open air, slightly hard but nowhere near filled out. Sean gulps, licking his lips with hungry eyes.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Following the rules, as is expected from an Outlaw, isn't something Macguire is very skilled at. He puts his mouth around Arthur's cock, sure, but the man never detailed anything about... Teeth. In general, it's a totally unacceptable thing in blow jobs. But what's one more regulation to stray from? He takes about half the length into his mouth; bobs up and down and busies himself until it's standing to attention like a soldier. Then, he goes down and bites. It's light, of course, because as a man himself he knows the kind of shitty torture such a despicable action causes. But it is still enough to evoke pain.

"You son of a bitch!"

Arthur hissed through clenched teeth. He grabs the other male suddenly, pulls him up and away from his pained cock to look him in the eye. There's a little spit dribbling down his chin and a cocky glint to his eyes.

"Oopsies!" Was giggled playfully. Drunkenly.

Instead of replying, Morgan just took a moment to think. The boy would need some punishment for his foolish actions, but he wanted it to be something memorable; something that wouldn't exit Sean's memory any time soon.

Then an idea clicked, and he chuckled in one of those ways that made grown people hunch over in fear. Sean didn't, though, being the brat he is. Of course.

"Undress yourself," Arthur ordered and began doing the same to himself, starting with the buttons of his shirt. His movements were scarily calm and collected unlike the redhead's, who almost ripped his shirt in the process of pulling it over his head. When they're both in nothing, Arthur kicks their discarded articles of clothing into a makeshift pile. The purpose? Sean finds out when the other's fingers click, signalling him to get on his hands and knees. The clothes were makeshift cushions.

"Oh, fuck..." The younger murmurs, cupping his hands together so that he may rest his head upon them.

"O-oh, fuck!" He repeated in exclamation, pulling away from a finger that had suddenly dared to try and venture past his tight ring of muscle. Of course, he's quick to push back afterwards, rocking like an untamed horse who was having a tizzy. Arthur chuckles at the idea— Sean, a bastard of a horse who not even the most foolish of people would buy.

"Gimme a second," said Arthur. Silence filled the air for a few moments. Then, the sound of a few spits and a weak groan as precum and saliva were used to lube his member and fingers.

"Try to relax."

"As if it's easy to relax, English! Do you have any idea whatcha doing to me here?!" The impatience in his voice was clear, even if there wasn't any way to go faster without tremendous pain being caused. Then again, he was never the kind of man to take that kind of thing into account; factors were nonexistent to Sean, there were only the nows and present happenings. And right now, he wants to get fucked already.

"Shut up."

Arthur, fingers now slippery with fluid, press against the other male's hole, daring to push in after a few tentative strokes. And, it seems, Sean gets fuller by the minute— one finger becoming two, impatience turning into bliss. Or... He thought it was bliss. It pales quickly when Arthur cranes his fingers, hitting a spot buried within him that evokes an open-mouthed moan.

Oh, what a pretty sight he was.

"Ready? 'M getting impatient."

"Y-yes, I'm ready, Arthur. Just hurry up."

He didn't want to keep him waiting, did he? No, no of course not. Arthur pressed his velvety tip to Sean's entrance, takes a deep breath, and pushes forward. What he lacked in excessive length he easily made up for with girth— width that the redhead felt and hissed at, closing his eyes.

"Someone'd almost think you was a virgin. So tight 'n' worked up like a sissy," was mused aloud. It brought a laugh from both of them; eased some of the tension that had built in Sean's head due to pain. Then, mentally, Arthur mused that this would be far from the Irishman's worst pains tonight. Things were only beginning.

"You... I think you can move it along, now," said Sean after a few deep inhales and shaky exhales. The other didn't need any more indication, and set a gentle, slow pace, only coming out about halfway before pushing back in to his hilt. Little as the movements were, they had Sean making little ooh's and ahh's every time he attempted to fill his lungs with oxygen, only further proving Arthur's previous words. Once he started picking up the pace, he smiled, knowing the fun was about to begin for the unaware Irishman who, as luck would have it, was getting close real fast— typical Sean.

“Ooh... I'm...” He abandoned his sentence in favour of pumping his cock weakly, but his hand is batted away and he groans in protest.

“Don’t go touchin’ yerself until I say so, alright?”

A pause. A blush.

“...Yes.”

It took a few more moments for him to be unravelled entirely and about to climax without touch. Barely able to get words out as he was slammed into repeatedly, all Sean could do was murmur a vague “about t’.” But Arthur already knew, and just before he could sense the other releasing, he did something that actually made Sean choke out a sob despite every part of his brain protesting against it.

He stopped his movements and squeezed the other's balls, humming in Sean's ear when he bent down over his back.

“Not just yet. Tsk.”

“You- bastard!”

“No, I'm not a bastard. I'm just a man showing you a lesson.” He emphasised the last words harshly, reminding the other of the previous event that had just transpired. A small part of Sean figured he deserved it, albeit the rest of him inwardly whined.

And then the cycle continues over and over and over again. Morgan fucks him hard and deep, hitting all those special spots that make him mewl. And every time, he stops just before he comes. It gets to a point where Arthur only has to thrust once or twice before pausing, even, and he wonders how much time had passed since they started this. He was rock hard and leaking from the tip—Sean was certainly doing the same. Both were panting and sweating profusely, skin shiny under the moonlight shining through still trees. Maybe they'd been here for years— here, entangled within each other's presence, one edging the other on pleasure and overstimulation so great that it caused tears to roll down bright red cheeks. So great that, to both their astonishment, little pleas and begs with a thick accent tumbled past puffy lips. Shit, Arthur could've sworn he heard “daddy” at one point and phrases in a language he did not understand. He was going completely mad.

It's safe to say they've both been at it for a while.

“Have you learnt your lesson, Sean?”

“Oh- oh fuck, I've learnt! I'm sorry! Just- just please let me release- fuck, please!” He was way past preserving dignity.

“Good boy,” Arthur cooed into his ear, suddenly reigniting the flame that was his movements in and out of Sean. He didn’t stop; didn’t slow down and clutch the other so he couldn’t find the purchase he so desperately sought after. This time, he just keeps going.

Sean loses it completely.

First, he gasps, inhaling so much air so quickly that his poor lungs burn. Then, he exclaims loud enough to scare any game for miles— probably would’ve alerted camp, too, if a hand hadn’t clutched over his mouth. His prick twitched furiously, releasing its load onto the floor beneath his torso, including their used-to-be-clean clothes. Arthur came in the midst of it, biting his lip until it bled to keep his own noise at bay. Muffled thank you's and swear words were rushed into the skin of his palm.

It took ages for them to turn still, and, even when they had, their laboured breaths still filled the air. Sean had drifted off into a state between sleep and blatant unconsciousness. Arthur was cleaning them both off with the fabric of his shirt— it'd need to be cleaned, now, anyway. When he was roused by gentle kisses to his collarbone, Sean could only smile. This 'quick fix' had been the best and worst experience of his life at once; he truly don’t know which emotions to remember this encounter by. Alas, if there’s one thing he will take away from this, it’s that Arthur isn’t a force to be reckoned with— both in a gunfight and sex, as unrelated as the topics may be.

“I love ya, Arthur Morgan.”

“...love you, too, you stupid fool.”


End file.
